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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659617">Symptoms Include: Death</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomReader13/pseuds/RandomReader13'>RandomReader13</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>broken bodies, daisy bloom [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Bit of Fluff, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Family Bonding, Gen, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason needs to TELL PEOPLE WHEN HE'S HURTING, Starvation, Survival, They're all trying so hard to be good family members, Zombie Apocalypse, effects of zombification</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:50:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,201</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659617</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomReader13/pseuds/RandomReader13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dying and coming back always has side effects.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson &amp; Jason Todd, Everyone &amp; Everyone, Jason Todd &amp; Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>broken bodies, daisy bloom [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>189</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Symptoms Include: Death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acxa_Kogane/gifts">Acxa_Kogane</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is dedicated to Acxa_Kogane, who left me two ESSAYS of comments and made me cry happy tears. Thank you for talking about your ideas and questions, Acxa! They gave me some great ideas I hadn't considered and reminded me of some things I had forgotten. Ranting and rambling is always welcome ^^</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was something beautiful about today, something new and fresh and <em> alive, </em> even in a dead world -- well, dead city, the rest of the world seemed perfectly fine, and they had a steady stream of news helicopters flying over the city to remind them of it.</p>
<p>But today wasn’t a day to think about the bridges blowing, people screaming as they were abandoned by the rest of the world. Today was fresh and new and <em> wonderful</em>. Dick caught Cass by the hand and twirled her, dropping her into a dip. She laughed as he pulled her back up and pulled away, only to do a dizzying amount of pirouettes on her own. Her steps were light and graceful, her entire body screaming <em> joy </em> so strongly it took Dick’s breath away. She crashed into his chest after yet another spin, giggling and dizzy, and he laughed too, wrapping his arms around her.</p>
<p>It was a day for laughter and dancing and Bruce’s face never drooping to a scowl or a worried frown even once, because Jason was alive. He was tired and hurt, but he was <em> alive</em>. It was impossible, but it was true, and they were going to bring him back to the main apartment today.</p>
<p>Dick had wanted to bring him back immediately, as soon as woke up, but Bruce and Alfred and even Tim had disagreed. More observation, more armor and careful distance and restraints strapping his brother to the bed. It was necessary, and Dick understood that, but he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around his brother and never let go. He had wanted to that before, wanted to at least give Jason that small comfort while he waited for the fever to take him, but he couldn’t.</p>
<p>Dick shook his head and spun Cass once more before heading to the door. It didn’t matter any more, because Jason was coming home today, and sure, it wasn’t the manor or a big party with Jason’s favorite foods, but they were all there, all together, all as safe and healthy and happy as they could be, and that was enough.</p>
<p>Alfred met him at the door, not even bothering to hide the small smile scrunching his mustache, and they went through together. Bruce and Tim were in the room, taking a final round of tests and questions. Jason’s responses were slow and short, but he was talking. He was wrapped in bandages with a brace on his right leg and a shoulder that needed a sling as soon as they untied him, but he was awake.</p>
<p>“How’re you feeling, Little Wing?” Dick asked. Jason scowled up at him and Dick had to hide the instinctual flinch when their eyes met. The neon green had been disorienting enough, especially if you caught Jason at just the right time, when he was on edge and maskless and in the dark. Dick had about jumped out of his skin, the first night in the apartment, when he rolled over only to be met with a pair of glowing eyes staring at him from the corner. But it had still been Jason’s eyes, fiery and bright and easy to read. Now...Dick couldn’t read them at all. He hoped it was just something he would have to get used to, but he wasn’t sure. It was disturbing, if he was being honest, the...the only word he could think of was cloudy, but he hated that word, hated it with a passion, because it made him think of dead eyes and Jason wasn’t dead, he was right here and he was fine. It was probably just the tail end of his concussion.</p>
<p>“Hungry,” Jason groused, and Dick laughed.</p>
<p>“He’ll be fine,” he told Bruce and Tim.</p>
<p>Bruce smiled softly, running a hand through Jason’s hair. “Yes,” he said. “I do think he will be.” He clapped his hands together. “You ready to get out of here, Jay-lad?”</p>
<p>“Please,” Jason said, shifting impatiently.</p>
<p>Dick jumped to release the padded cuffs from Jason’s ankles as Bruce did the same with his wrists. Jason sat up immediately, wincing as his left shoulder pulled. Dick grimaced. It had been dislocated when Jason had been pulled off the fire escape. They had relocated it, but it would have been a lot better by now if they could have kept it held in a sling across Jason’s chest, rather than strapping it to the headboard. But Jason had always healed quickly, he’d be fine.</p>
<p>Bruce hovered anxiously as Jason slowly stood up. He wobbled on his feet for a few seconds before steadying. “M’<em> fine</em>,” he insisted. That didn’t stop all of them from crowding him as he made his way into the hallway and up to their door. Steph was standing by it, for once breaking the strict rules of locked and bolted doors at all times. She had a gun in her hands, but it was pointed at the ground. She teared up seeing Jason up and walking.</p>
<p>“Hey, Blondie,” Jason said, smiling tiredly.</p>
<p>“Get inside so I can hug you, you idiot,” Steph choked, stepping to the side. She did just that as soon as he passed the threshold, shoving her gun in its holster and flinging her arms around him. Jason staggered a little, from the force of it, so Dick fulfilled his brotherly duties and balanced him by wrapping him in a hug from the other side.</p>
<p>“Really?” Jason demanded, having to lean more weight on Dick than he wanted due to his bad leg.</p>
<p>Cass skipped over, pausing just outside the hug and smiling wickedly. She deliberately leaned forward and planted a kiss on Jason’s forehead.</p>
<p>Jason sighed heavily. “Love you too, Cass.”</p>
<p>Dick made a noise of faux-outrage. “What about me? I’m the one holding your fat butt off the ground!”</p>
<p>“You are welcome to drop me any time, Dickie.”</p>
<p>“No dropping,” Bruce rumbled, nudging their huddle carefully to the side so he could finish barring the door.</p>
<p>“If you really love me, you’d bring me food,” Jason said, not putting up even a cursory struggle as Dick lugged the three of them further into the room. “I’m fucking starving.”</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t wonder,” Alfred said, bringing a plate with toast and canned beans. They had been eating a lot of bread lately, trying to make the most of it before it all rotted. “Master Dick, if you would.”</p>
<p>“Sure thing, Alf!” Dick plopped Jason onto one of the four chairs sitting around the tiny kitchen table. Jason didn’t bother snarling at him, dragging the plate towards him and scarfing it down.</p>
<p>“Easy, Jay,” Bruce said, taking a seat on the other side of the table. Dick dropped into the final chair, across from Steph, who hadn’t taken her eyes off Jason’s face. “Don’t make yourself sick.”</p>
<p>Jason just grunted, but slowed down a little.</p>
<p>Tim was leaning against the wall a few feet away, hair sticking up in all directions like it always did after he wore his borrowed helmet. “How are you feeling, Jay?” he asked, scrutinizing the older boy. Damian hovered by his side, brows pinching his customary scowl into one of concern.</p>
<p>“Peachy,” Jason said, dragging his toast around his plate to get the last of the beans and popping it into his mouth. He sagged back against the chair, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “Just tired.”</p>
<p>“The bed is, of course, yours for the taking, Master Jason.”</p>
<p>Jason cracked open an eye, frowning. “I don’t wanna take it from you, Alfie. I’ll be fine on the floor.”</p>
<p>“Nonsense,” the man said firmly. “I have spent many a night bedding in places much less comfortable than the floor of this apartment. The bed is reserved for those most in need and you, young man, are injured.”</p>
<p>Jason sighed but allowed himself to be helped into the bedroom, where he promptly collapsed face-first and fell asleep.</p>
<hr/>
<p>With each following day, the apartment grew noticeably less tense. No one said it, but Dick thought they all feared on some level that this was a temporary reprieve. They weren’t usually this lucky, there had to be some catch. But Jason was fine, and getting stronger by the day. He was cold now, when before he had been a furnace almost to rival Bruce, but Alfred said that wasn’t uncommon after a fever of this severity. They would just have to wait and see what symptoms might be from his fever and injuries and what might end up permanent markers of the virus. No one had survived it before, after all. They had no idea what they were dealing with.</p>
<p>Jason’s eyes were still weirdly faded, nearly translucent, but the foggy look had dissipated a little as he healed from his concussion. Dick would never admit it out loud, but it was still creepy as hell when Jason went from not paying much attention to focusing on him. Jason had never been one for absent staring, always sharp-eyed and paying attention, and Dick wasn’t sure if it was the trauma that made it look like he was zoning out more or if he wasn’t and that was just what his eyes looked like now. When he did start focusing, though, it was like someone flipped a switch, the remaining fogginess vanishing to be replaced with an icy stare that was disturbing precisely because Jason could be cracking a joke or completely relaxed while his eyes bored a hole into someone’s skull.</p>
<p>Tim theorized that the Lazarus Pit had completely burned itself out in stripping the virus from Jason’s system. He didn’t have a guess for why his eyes didn’t return to their natural color, but none of them were spending too much time worrying about the color of Jason’s eyes -- at least out loud. Their time was much better spent playing endless rounds of gin rummy and poker and shark’s hand, a game that had apparently originated in the bowels of Gotham and usually involved knives. Of course, Jason was an expert at it. Dick didn’t think his knuckles would ever recover -- Bruce may have banned the use of knives, but Jason was just as deadly with the spoon someone had dug up.</p>
<p>It wasn’t perfect -- there were awkward silences and tense pauses as someone accidentally toed a minefield, but so far they had all managed to safely retreat. Steph plastered herself as close to Jason as she could, taking the chair next to him, sleeping in the corner closest to his neat pile of bedding, eyes tracking him wherever he went. Jason was taking it with surprising grace, but Dick knew it was only a matter of time before he snapped. At the same time, Dick wasn’t comfortable telling Steph to back off. He understood where she was coming from; it had been horrific enough coming onto the scene after Jason had stopped fighting, it must have been so much worse to watch it happen, to stand trapped on a fire escape trying to help but unable to fight off the horde. She was gradually backing off, spending more time with Cass and Tim without whipping around to find Jason and less concerned with staying close to the older boy, and Dick was confident that in a bit more time she would be fine. Scarred in new and lasting ways, yes, but they were used to scars in this family.</p>
<p>Dick went to get a glass of water while they paused for a bathroom break after hour three of cutthroat competition and much exchanging of bullet casings -- they were the most common small item they had in the apartment, but Dick had some suspicions that Jason used them to get the younger kids more used to the weapons, too. He grabbed a slightly-brown apple out of the bowl on the counter and brought it back for Jason. The younger boy seemed to be constantly hungry now, but Dick wasn’t concerned. Jason had burned a lot of energy and put his body under a lot of strain. Just his injuries alone would have been enough to work up an appetite, but throw the fever on top and it was no wonder Jason was constantly munching on something. Not that he sought the food out himself; Jason was much too used to denying himself food, especially in survival situations, and while Dick would normally agree with his restraint, Jason was still recovering. Not to mention they had a lot of food that was going to go bad sooner than later and should get eaten by <em> someone</em>. The rest of the family had no such compunctions, and someone was pretty much always sticking a buttered bit of bread or a piece of fruit into Jason’s hands. Jason never complained and he always ate it immediately, just on this side of too fast. But that, too, was normal for Jason. He always ate quickly, as if the food would be taken from him if he paused for breath.</p>
<p>“What’re you staring at?” Jason demanded. The core of the apple sat picked clean by his elbow.</p>
<p>Dick blinked, realizing he had been staring for a good minute or two. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head a little. “Zoned out.”</p>
<p>Jason grunted and shuffled the cards. “So,” he said, trying and failing miserably to sound casual. Dick perked up immediately. “When are you going on the next supply run?”</p>
<p>Dick shrugged, tilting his head to one side and surveying Jason through his hair. It was getting a bit long, he could really do with a cut. “Eh, couple days.” It would have been sooner -- always resupply when given the chance, you never know when it will be the last -- but they had all been lying low. Bruce had hardly even had to say anything, and he had been visibly relieved when he didn’t have to argue with anyone about it. Well, visibly relieved for Bruce, which meant his eyebrows didn’t lower and his shoulders loosened just a smidge.</p>
<p>Jason hummed and nodded, staring intensely at the deck of cards. If Jason was a meta, Dick would worry about him setting it on fire with his mind.</p>
<p>Dick propped his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his palm. “What’re you thinking, Jay?” he asked, slipping into that tone that was simultaneously inviting and warning. Babs called it the Big Brother Voice (copyright pending) and it was wonderfully effective. God, he missed Babs, but right now he was focusing on Jason. That was something they had learned quick: you had to focus on what you had, not on what you lost.</p>
<p>Jason glanced up at him, eyes a little wide. “Nothin’. Just wondering,” he said, tapping the cards on the table.</p>
<p>Jason had always been the most immune to the Big Brother Voice (copyright pending), but that was okay. Dick leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, and slowly raised one eyebrow.</p>
<p>Jason stared resolutely at the cards, but his ears were turning red.</p>
<p>Dick balanced on the back legs of his chair, still staring at Jason. “Just wondering, huh?”</p>
<p>The deck drifted to the table, card by card, and Jason shrugged, looking oddly sheepish. “Wondering if I could...go with you?”</p>
<p>Dick let the front legs of his chair fall back to the ground with a thud. “Jason,” he said. “You literally got swarmed barely a week ago.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I am aware,” Jason said tensely.</p>
<p>“You’re fresh out of the sling, your ribs are barely healing, and your leg-”</p>
<p>“My leg was just a sprain, it’s fine,” Jason snapped. “And so’s my arm.”</p>
<p>Dick raised an incredulous eyebrow. “You’re not cleared for heavy lifting yet, Jay. What exactly are you planning on doing if you get swarmed again?”</p>
<p>“I don’t need to lift heavy things to kill zombies,” Jason hissed.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah?” Dick challenged. “What about yourself?”</p>
<p>The blood drained from Jason’s face before rushing back twice as strong. Shit. He shoved his chair back.</p>
<p>“Wait, Jay, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up-” But it was true. Jason’s left arm was still healing, and Jason couldn’t afford to be down a limb out there. “Jay.”</p>
<p>“Fuck off, Dick,” Jason said, stomping past the others, who had been chatting in the tiny hallway while waiting for Dick and Jason to be done talking. That was the thing about living in a shoebox of an apartment, all of them crammed together. Lots of rules had to be made just to stay sane, and one of those was to pay attention to other people’s conversation cues. If it looked like a private talk, give them as much room as possible; eavesdrop at your own peril, because Bruce wouldn’t save you. But the conversation was clearly done now, punctuated by the slamming of the bathroom door, and three pairs of eyes swiveled over to Dick. He groaned, burying his face in his hands.</p>
<p>“What happened, Dick?” Tim asked, cautiously lowering himself into one of the chairs. Steph plopped down in the other one and Cass squeezed herself between them where they had pushed the two chairs together. It looked ridiculous and was more than a little precarious, with each of them only half balanced at any given time, but they weren’t complaining so no one commented on it.</p>
<p>Dick rubbed his hands down his face. “He wants to go on a supply run,” he said.</p>
<p>“What!?” Steph nearly shrieked. Dick winced and gestured for her to lower her volume. Another rule. Despite all of their defenses and safeguards, don’t make unnecessary noise. Not only did it attract the zombies, but it turns out people keep strange sleeping hours when society collapses, and no one wanted a sleep-deprived sibling -- or, God forbid, Bruce or Alfred -- to come barging into the room for revenge. Bruce would generally just squint and grunt at them, maybe manhandle one of them into bed with him if they were being really obnoxious and just roll further onto them the more they struggled until they were smothered into submission. Alfred would just raise his disapproving eyebrow or make a snarky comment. Still, Dick would rather be threatened at knife-point by a cranky Damian than have to watch lines of exhaustion join the stress and worry lines on Bruce and Alfred’s faces.</p>
<p>They all looked at the bedroom door. Bruce and Damian had disappeared inside an hour ago to meditate, which usually ended up with them napping together on the bed. Dick was pretty sure Alfred was in there too; he liked the relative peace and quiet while he read. Fortunately, the door didn’t budge, and no one even banged on the wall.</p>
<p>“He literally just <em> died</em>,” Steph whisper-yelled. “He just got <em> swarmed</em>! His arm and leg are still fucked up, not to mention his ribs!”</p>
<p>“I know that, Stephanie,” Dick hissed back. “Why do you think he got angry? That's what I told him!”</p>
<p>Cass looked troubled. “Tight,” she said, scrunching her hands close together with a twisting motion. “Need….” She pulled her hands apart, splaying her fingers and shaking them hard once.</p>
<p>“Release,” Tim muttered. “We’re all going crazy but Jason probably feels even more trapped. His usual coping mechanism is to run, and, well,” he gestured at the tiny apartment.</p>
<p>Dick sighed. “I can’t just agree,” he said, tangling his fingers in his hair as he stared at the table. “But I’m afraid if I don’t….”</p>
<p>“Run,” Cass said softly.</p>
<p>“So don’t,” Steph said firmly. The other three blinked at her owlishly. She folded her arms before Cass slapped her prodding elbow away. Her arms hovered awkwardly in the air for a moment before she dropped them onto the table. “It’s not your call, Dick, even if you’re running point on this run.” She shrugged. “Take advantage of Bruce’s control-freak tendencies. God knows we don’t get to do that enough. Make Jason convince <em> him</em>.”</p>
<p>Dick tipped his head to one side, thinking. “You know,” he said slowly, “That’s not a bad idea.” It felt like a bit of a betrayal, but needs must and all that. Bruce and Jason were still in their weird emotional state where they liked being around each other and didn’t antagonize each other, actively or accidentally, so chances were this wouldn’t even escalate into a fight. Jason might peacefully agree to stay home if Bruce suggested it in his worried dad voice. Dick thought it was -- sometimes jarringly -- adorable the way Jason would get all red and flustered when Bruce was obviously dadding him.</p>
<p>Steph beamed, triumphant. “Ha, please. Admit my genius.”</p>
<p>“I would have gotten there eventually,” Dick said, but he grinned and tilted his head in a little nod at her.</p>
<p>“The BatDad can be a powerful resource,” Steph said mysteriously, and Dick promptly choked on his water.</p>
<p>“What- what did you say?” he wheezed.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>He coughed a laugh. “What did you call him?”</p>
<p>Steph grinned deviously. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”</p>
<p>The bathroom door opened, and they all swiveled to look at it automatically. Jason emerged from the hallway, eyes flicking over them before settling on his chair, left empty even as Cass was balanced on the edge of Tim and Steph’s chairs. His brow furrowed a little. Dick held his breath. It was always a 50/50 chance with Jason, whether he would be flattered by the obvious sign of welcome or angered by it. Jason glanced at them all again before slowly crossing the room and dropping into his chair. There was a long, uncomfortable silence, and Dick was just about to break it when Jason spoke.</p>
<p>“Look,” he said gruffly. “I get why you’re…concerned.” His jaw tightened. “But you don’t have to treat me like some delicate flower. I can handle myself.”</p>
<p>Dick exhaled slowly. That was...as close as an apology for storming off as Jason was ever likely to give. Honestly, Dick was surprised he had said this much; their whole family wasn’t big on apologizing for little things -- and, yeah, he knew that wasn’t ideal, but having no member of their family be actively homicidal towards other members was progress for them. Their bar might be on the ground, but at least they weren’t digging under it any more. And honestly, Dick was the real, well, dick in this situation.</p>
<p>“You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry I brought up the whole….” he gestured helplessly, unsure how to tactfully say ‘how I kinda maybe insinuated that it was your fault that you almost died a week ago because you couldn’t lift heavy things’. “I was being an asshole, and me being worried doesn’t excuse that.” Wow, look at him handling situations and taking responsibility, thank you Dr. Idrid and those three therapy sessions five years ago. God, this sucked, but Jason was peering up at him with something like hope in the lines around his eyes, and Dick would do just about anything to keep his little brother from running off on his own, especially now. And also, Jason deserved to hear it, because only assholes implied shit like that.</p>
<p>“Look,” Dick said, folding his hands together, elbows resting on the table. “You can come with me on the supply run-” Jason brightened and Dick held up a hand. “As long as you can get Bruce on board,” he finished.</p>
<p>Jason scowled. “That means jack shit, Dickhead. You could just say no, ‘stead of trying to push it off on Bruce.”</p>
<p>Dick very carefully didn’t look at Stephanie. “Bruce is in charge of who goes on these runs,” he said as reasonably as possible. “I can’t take you without his okay, and, no offense, I’m not convinced enough about your health to argue with him about it.” He shrugged, trying to soften the blow. “You’ve got a few days to wear him down?”</p>
<p>“Fine,” Jason snapped, shuffling the cards violently. He dealt out six cards and Dick sighed inaudibly as he picked his hand up. Shark’s Hand again. He had no doubt he’d come out of this round with several more bruises on his knuckles.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“I still don’t know how you managed to convince him,” Dick grumbled, crouched on a roof and surveying the grocery store across the street. He squinted through his visor, fumbling with the controls that were so different from his own domino mask. He nearly blinded himself by accidentally activating night vision instead of the infrared. Dick hated the Red Hood helmet, although he would never tell Jason that. The fact that Jason had been willing to give him and Tim his extra was incredible, and Dick wasn’t about to make his brother think he didn’t appreciate that. Especially since he had poked around the insides of the helmet a little and discovered that it was probably personally-designed by Jason and definitely at least partially hand-made by him. Still, he hated the restricted sight-lines and stale air -- logically he knew that the helmet’s filters were constantly circulating the air, it wasn’t actually stale, but that didn’t change how restrictive it felt. It was even worse than Bruce’s cowl.</p>
<p>“Try dying,” Jason suggested, and Dick almost fell off the roof at how casually he said it. “It’s like a golden ticket for getting anything you want. Well, as long as you can stand him hovering over your shoulder.” He turned and stared pointedly at Bruce, who was standing only a few feet away. Bruce looked right back.</p>
<p>“This was my condition,” he rumbled.</p>
<p>Dick could see Jason’s eye-roll in the way his helmet moved, and he wondered if projecting that much was just something Jason had gotten used to after wearing it so long or if he did it specifically to be dramatic. Knowing Jason, probably a combination of both.</p>
<p>“Three bodies inside,” Dick reported, having finally managed to find the infrared. “Twelve on the streets surrounding but only four close enough to be bothered if we make noise.” Aside from a gunshot, but that went without saying.</p>
<p>“Alright, let’s go,” Jason said, moving forward. He was stopped by Bruce’s hand snaking out and latching onto his arm. Jason’s shoulders tilted aggressively for half a second before he subsided, making a mocking gesture towards the edge of the roof. “Of course, be my guest,” he said, sarcasm loud and clear even though the voice modulator. It was better than his reaction would have been before this whole mess, and Dick hoped it would remain that way even as Jason healed and they moved past the trauma. The bad side effects remained for years, but the good ones didn’t seem to last. But they had all been doing really well, lately, especially considering their close quarters.</p>
<p>Bruce grappled down, Jason and Dick close on his heels. They landed close enough to the doors of the store that only one zombie began wandering over. Jason’s hand flew to his pistol and Dick fought the urge to grab his wrist. That would not be nearly as well received as Bruce grabbing his arm. Instead, Dick took a casual step that shifted him just enough to the side that he blocked Jason’s shot. Jason’s helmet tilted at him in a distinctly judgmental way but he slowly took his hand off the grip and stormed into the store. Dick followed cautiously. Jason wasn’t usually this jumpy, but that was understandable. He had just gotten swarmed a week ago, it would take a while for him to feel confident fighting them. Then again, this was Jason, and his reaction to trauma generally seemed to be getting angry and blowing stuff up, so maybe Dick should get on that instead. Blowing up zombies would be pretty cathartic for all of them, for that matter.</p>
<p>Speaking of zombies, one turned the corner and instantly lunged for Dick’s throat. He ducked to the side, spinning it away with a tight grip on its arm and stabbing his knife into the top of its skull. The zombie dropped like a stone and Dick stared down at it, fighting a shudder. He knew they weren’t human any more, not really. He knew he couldn’t think of them like that because it would make him hesitate, and to hesitate could result in someone else’s death. But it was still a skull he was stabbing, still blood and brain matter spattering the floor and dripping from his knife. He had thrown up the first few times, and it still made his stomach churn.</p>
<p>Bruce and Jason were getting dried goods, so Dick headed towards the canned section, slinging his backpack off his shoulder and trying to remember what they already had. No one wanted to end up with thirty cans of beans and not a drop of soup in the apartment.</p>
<p>It was almost peaceful, the steady methodical motions, hearing Bruce and Jason occasionally making quiet reports on their status and how many zombies they had put down. Peaceful for the apocalypse anyway. Dick finished filling up his backpack and wandered over to see how Jason was doing. He had been quieter than usual, only a single terse report of taking down a zombie. No sarcastic quip or death joke or anything. Dick nodded at Bruce as he passed his aisle. Jason was two further down. </p>
<p>Dick froze before turning into the aisle, listening hard. It sounded like someone -- or something -- was eating, really loudly and messily. Dick’s heart immediately jumped into his throat. There hadn’t been any noise of a fight. Even if he might have been too far away to hear a light scuffle, there was no way Bruce would miss it. And Jason wouldn’t go down without a fight. So there were three options: either all of his unspoken fears were right and Jason was the one making that noise, a zombie had somehow managed to get the drop on his brother without anyone noticing and was now eating him, or Jason had wandered away without telling them and some zombie was alone in the aisle. As much as the idea of Jason wandering off would have pissed him off thirty seconds ago, Dick prayed that was what happened.</p>
<p>Dick took a deep breath, pulled out his knife, and whipped around the corner. His shoulders dropped in relief when there was no zombie tearing into Jason’s prone figure, but immediately tensed up again when he realized it was Jason, hunched over and loudly scarfing down...something, Dick couldn’t get a clear look.</p>
<p>“Jay?” Dick said cautiously, edging forward. Jason froze, and Dick could see the tensed muscles of his back even through his armor and jacket. Dick swallowed hard. “Are you okay?”</p>
<p>“Go away, Dick,” Jason snapped, and Dick felt like he had been kicked in the chest by a horse. He slumped against the shelving, pressing a hand to his chest. Zombies couldn’t talk.</p>
<p>“Fucking hell, Jason. You scared the shit out of me.”</p>
<p>“Leave me alone,” Jason growled.</p>
<p>“What are you doing? We’re supposed to be bringing this back for later, not eating it now.” Dick walked forward, curious now that the fear had drained from his limbs. His steps slowed as he got a better look at Jason, and the area around him. There were all kinds of packaging scattered around him, empty. Even now, Jason tilted a box of crackers back into his mouth, chewing like Dick was going to take it away from him. Dick did consider it -- food was important, they had to conserve it, and Jason was scaring him again, just a bit -- but decided the chances of getting his fingers bitten off or his wrist snapped were too high.</p>
<p>“Um. Jay? You’re freaking me out, what are you doing?”</p>
<p>“Fuck off.” Jason dropped the empty box and grabbed blindly at the shelves, fingers closing around the first box they touched.</p>
<p>“Jay!”</p>
<p>Jason paused as he was ripping open the box and Dick hoped he was going to explain what the hell was going on, but the younger boy just doubled over and puked on the floor.</p>
<p>Dick jumped back. “Holy shit.” He tapped his comm. “Uh, Bruce? Something’s wrong with Jay.”</p>
<p>Bruce didn’t waste time answering, and Dick could hear his footsteps pounding as he whipped around the corner, faltering for just a second by Dick’s shoulder before dropping to his knees beside Jason.</p>
<p>“Jay-lad?” he murmured, placing a careful hand on Jason’s back as the boy shuddered and heaved.</p>
<p>“Fuck off,” Jason moaned, trying to pull away.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong?” Bruce pressed.</p>
<p>“Leave me alone.” Those were definitely tears in his voice and fuck, Dick was not qualified to deal with this. Jason would hate that he was here, should he leave? But Bruce wasn’t paying any attention to his surroundings, and God knew Jason wasn’t. It was too dangerous. Dick settled for turning away from the two of them, scanning their surroundings for any sign of zombies.</p>
<p>Bruce was talking quietly to Jason, and Dick was grateful that he couldn’t hear, wanted to give Jason as much privacy as possible, but Jason’s response was loud and clear and strained with tears. “I’m so fucking hungry, all the time. Nothing helps.”</p>
<p>“What?” Bruce’s voice rose a little from alarm and Dick couldn’t help glancing at his younger brother, brow furrowing in concern.</p>
<p>“I can’t fucking think half the time,” Jason panted. “I thought maybe I just needed more food or something, fuck if I know, that happened the first time, my metabolism was suddenly fast as fuck, but-” he gestured helplessly at the boxes and packets scattered around them. “I’m still fucking starving. I was fucking starving even as I knew I was eating too much and I fucking made myself sick because I couldn’t stop.” His voice completely broke at the end and he curled over, arms wrapped tight around his stomach as his shoulders shook.</p>
<p>“When did this start?” Bruce asked, rubbing circles on Jason’s back.</p>
<p>“As soon as I woke up,” Jason said, barely loud enough for Dick to hear.</p>
<p>“It’s been like this for almost two weeks and you didn’t say anything?!” Bruce demanded.</p>
<p>Jason shrugged. Dick wanted to shake him, beat it into his thick skull that they cared about him and wanted to help him and they couldn’t do that if he kept secrets this fucking big, but he also wanted to wrap him in a hug. Jason inspired that kind of mixed feelings a lot.</p>
<p>Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. This is what we’re going to do. Dick, take Jason’s backpack.” Dick spotted it sitting open on the other side of the aisle and scooped it up. It was only half full, but that didn’t matter. “Jay, I’m going to help you up and we’re going to go back home. Tim and Alfred and I are going to run some tests. We’ll figure out what’s wrong and we’ll fix it. Okay?”</p>
<p>Jason nodded limply.</p>
<p>“Do you feel well enough to put your helmet on?” Bruce asked. They could manage, if Jason couldn’t wear it, but it would make him a lot more vulnerable.</p>
<p>Jason exhaled slowly, thought for a second, and held out a hand so Bruce could pass him his helmet. “I’m fine,” he muttered.</p>
<p>“Okay.” Bruce pulled Jason’s arm over his shoulder and hauled them both to their feet. “Dick, take point.”</p>
<p>As they made their slow way home, Dick had a lot of time to think, and think he did. None of them had noticed what Jason was going through. Sure, they noticed that he was hungry, but none of them had even guessed at the extent of the problem. Jason had been literally starving in front of them for two weeks and they hadn’t had a clue. It made Dick feel sick. If Jason had managed to hide something of this magnitude from them while they were all already watching him like hawks, what else could he be hiding?</p>
<p>They would have to have a serious talk with everyone when they got back, Dick decided. He was sure Bruce was thinking the same thing, but if he wasn’t Dick would set it up himself. There couldn’t be other cases like this; it was too dangerous to hide symptoms or injuries, especially now. He just had to figure out a way to stress that without making Jason feel like they blamed him for his condition. That would just make him less likely to confide in them.</p>
<p>Dick shuddered. All the times he thought Jason was just staring into space, was he struggling with the hunger pangs? The very question of how Jason knew how to deal with starving as well as he did made Dick want to scream. But they knew now, at least. Dick glanced back at Jason, who had pushed Bruce off and ran over the rooftops on his own. Nothing in his bearing gave away the fact that he had been crying and throwing up ten minutes ago. Nothing hinted at the fact that he was starving, had been for two weeks. Dick took a deep, shaking breath and forced himself to face forward again.</p>
<p>They could fix it. They had to.</p>
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